


nothing to do and all day to it

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Canon Asexual Character, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29814171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: “This isgreat,Jon,” Tim interrupted again. “Like? Coming home and finding you like this? It’sreallyhot.”“I’m barely even doing anything.”Tim's back from being on holiday, and Jon's planned a little surprise.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 90





	nothing to do and all day to it

_A vacation is having nothing to do and all day to do it in. – Robert Orden_

“When will you be home?”

_“Around six, probably?”_ A puff of static as Tim sighed into the phone. _“I mean, plane’s scheduled for quarter five, barring any runaround. And I don’t have a checked bag, so then it’s just getting a cab back. So yeah. I’m hoping six.”_

Two weeks. Two weeks without Tim might have sounded like, well, an alright thing, back when they’d first started working together. Overenthusiasm and hyperactivity… Tim was an extrovert, no doubt about it. And Jon… Jon just _wasn’t._ He’d never particularly minded working with Tim, if he overlooked the occasional argument about architecture and dress code violations. He was a _good_ researcher; he’d wanted him on his team for a reason. 

And then... well. Jon had fallen in love with him, and having a two week break from any of his assistants was abruptly overshadowed by puttering around an empty flat by himself, in the quiet, and annoyed for a better part of fifteen days.

But that was okay. Tim was on his way back, at the airport now. And Jon had an idea, a… Christ, one outside his usual way of working. The deviation from routine would have made it difficult to bring up regardless, but then, this was also about, er, sex. “Alright,” he said shortly, trying to figure out a way to bring it up. He knew Tim would just _say_ it. Unfortunately, they weren’t all so blessed with the courage.

_“Jon?”_ A pause, and then Tim continued, humor in his voice, _“have you_ missed _me?”_

And there they were, teasing already. Jon almost… wanted to grumble about how he had kind of _missed_ it. But not Tim. Definitely not Tim. “It’s been _quiet,”_ he said, and Tim laughed from the other end of the line.

_“Aww, I’ll take that as a ‘yes, Tim, I missed you a lot,’ then!”_

Incorrigible. Jon found himself smiling along with the joke. “Don’t push your luck, Tim.”

_“Don’t worry, I missed you, too, boss.”_

“Don’t call me that.” Nevermind that Elias hadn’t mentioned Jon and Tim being together, the nightmare of a potential HR scare still haunted him a little when Tim called him his boss in relation to something regarding their being together. And, Jon figured, most people probably did _not_ miss their boss.

_“No one’s listening. It’s pretty slow for midday.”_ Despite all, Jon could hear the boredom in his voice. He sympathized. Flights were fine. But the waiting… _“But I’m probably gonna hit up the shops before they start boarding, so, do you want anything?”_

“No.”

_“Alrighty. Want me to call when I’m back?”_

“That’s not necessary.” Back to the matter at hand, though… he was still fumbling. “Er, unless you’re late. Or early.”

… well, there. That was awkward enough in itself to mention again that Tim definitely picked up on something. _“Okay. But why? Are you planning something?”_ Well done, Tim. Easier to bring up if he picked up on it first. _“Oooh. A party? Jon? What are you planning?”_

“Not a–” party, _really?_ For a two week holiday? When they couldn’t even talk Jon into _drinks_ more than once a fortnight? _Not_ easier to bring up when Tim went the wrong way. “No, it’s, it’s just me. Er, us. Both of us.” _That’s not helping, Jon. Give him something._ “Um. I thought we could– as a homecoming, we could…”

_Have sex. We could have sex._ Why was it so hard to say he wanted to have _sex?_

_“Oh.”_ For a second, Tim sounded thoughtful. Maybe… maybe? _“Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”_ Jon nearly sagged in relief, blowing out a breath. _“You know–”_

“Yes,” he said quickly, before Tim could actually _say it_ in the middle of the airport. “I, er, I’m sure there’s only one conclusion you’re getting to, so… yes. I thought, maybe. If you want.” Goddamn. Could he be _worse_ at this?

_“Oh,_ hell _yeah,”_ Tim said immediately. Oh thank God. _“I mean,_ you _want to, though? This isn’t just for my benefit?”_

“I… would like to, actually,” Jon said softly. 

He was… more grateful than he could say, with Tim’s… _patience,_ he guessed? With Jon’s stance on initiating sex. Lack thereof, he supposed; uninterested in sex since he’d started learning of its… pivotal point in most people’s existences. And Tim _was_ interested in it, had been since before they’d started dating and hadn’t made a secret of his preferences. A bit shameless, actually, even if Jon was a little jealous of his confidence sometimes. But he’d been… good. _Really_ good, never pushing Jon’s boundaries. Never letting Jon push them, either. Even now, they’d had _proper_ sex less times than he could count on one hand.

Not that they weren’t _intimate._ He didn’t quite like to admit to even himself how much he actually _enjoyed_ cuddling on the sofa with dinner, or being curled up together in bed at the end of the night. Even kissing was nice. And other things, the latest being when he’d watched Tim get off a few weeks ago. And Jon had… honestly been a bit _too_ tired that night, watching with heavy eyelids and dozing shortly after Tim’s orgasm. Ah well.

“It’s…” Jon continued, licking his lips. “… um, been a thought,” he admitted, heat burning beneath his skin. _Not_ the kind he’d been stoking the past few days, but just, yes, embarrassment. And now he was praying to whatever gods were out there, if they were, that Tim was not about to publicly ask _'are you horny?'_

He didn’t, though. _“Yeah? A thought. How much of a thought?”_

Well. He got it, at least, from that tone of voice. “E–Enough of one.”

_“Enough that you’ve been doing something about it?”_ Which was basically Tim being _delicate_ in asking if he’d been getting off while he was gone. _Christ._

“I’m going to hang up,” he said, instead of giving _that_ an answer. Someone remind him why he was in love with him again? Could anyone tell him?

Tim just _laughed,_ static in the phone. _“Aww, c’mon! Jon! Don’t leave me in the lurch like this! Christ, this is gonna be the longest short-haul flight ever now.”_

“Have a taste of my longest weekend,” Jon muttered, before he could stop himself. He didn’t mean to, really, but… yes, right, whenever he was… needy… Tim was more than willing, _eager,_ to help him out if he wanted that help. But when Tim wasn’t _home…_ not that Jon minded masturbation, of course, but it just wasn’t… _what_ he wanted right now, alright?

_“The whole_ weekend?” Tim repeated.

Shit. “I’m hanging _up,”_ Jon said again, and damn it all, why was he still _fond?_ “I’ll see you tonight. At six.”

_“At six,”_ Tim echoed. _“I am so definitely looking forward to seeing you now.”_

He rolled his eyes. “As opposed to five minutes ago, then.”

_“Wellllll, I meeeean–”_

Jon breathed out a laugh, and a little of the nerves. Oh. Tim had that effect, didn’t he? “Good _bye,_ Timothy,” he said, stern, and ended the call with Tim still laughing from the other end of the line.

  
  


As intriguing as the idea of sex was– _not_ usually something Jon thought on a regular basis, mind– that was not, in fact, the _whole_ of Jon’s plan. And yes, he knew how _terrible_ he was with plans, but… well, he was hoping to stick to this one. Even though it admittingly wasn’t _going_ very well. But those were nerves. Just nerves. And now… now he was on a schedule, _timed_ in preparation for Tim’s arrival and that… was not helping, either.

His plan, at base level, was to _seduce_ Tim. Yes, he knew how stupid it sounded. And yes, he also knew he didn’t have to _try_ to do that, apparently. But the reaction on the phone had been positive, Tim’s interest in Jon taking care of himself and that… that was the intention. If Tim was going to be home at six, Jon’s intention was to be, erm, _caught._ Touching himself. Putting on a show. And the whole thing was just _laughably_ ridiculous– it wasn’t _him,_ he wasn’t _bold_ like that– but… he wanted to try. Curiosity killed the cat, and if all went well, perhaps he’d take Tim down with him.

But it did mean masturbating to the clock now. Staging a scene, with the idea in mind of undressing and getting into bed and touching himself until Tim burst in the door. So the idea was a little less _comfortable_ than maybe it could have been. Not in a… boundary way, not that he didn’t want to try, but… it all felt a bit _cringy,_ didn’t it? But what did he know. Porn was an industry built around the idea, and Tim liked porn enough.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten off in front of Tim before; he had. He was habitual for the shower on the chance he needed to get off, but in the late hours of not being able to sleep or slow early mornings… he had. And that was fine. He didn’t mind. But the spontaneity of a sleepy wank turned out to _not_ be at all comparable to knowing he _had_ to be doing this at six in the evening, and on full display.

_… okay,_ he didn’t _have_ to, and he knew that. But the pressure was still there, self imposed and… stupid. This was _stupid._

_Relax, Jon._ He could hear the reminder like it was Tim’s voice, just like every other time he’d been told that when they played around. Never any hard expectation, never any pressure. And absolutely no judgment. So, he was overthinking this. What a shock. 

Ten ‘til six. Right. Tim hadn’t texted him about being early or late– unless the prat was holding out on him and making sure he _stayed_ out until six, since Jon had specified, which… actually worked… either way, the ball was about to be in his court. Right. Masturbation on a schedule. Easy. He was doing this because he wanted to, just like every other time. It was that simple. It was.

He left his phone on the table, and headed for the bedroom.

Tim was… _good_ at this. Jon understood the appeal. He liked to watch, and Tim was _very_ good at being _very_ expressive if he was in the mood to be. Very easily arching into his own hand and gasping Jon’s name breathless enough it made Jon’s ears hot to even think about. He wasn’t… like that. He couldn’t be like that, which was _fine,_ he knew, but sometimes he wished the whole thing would come a bit easier to him, too. But until then… he was going to try to emulate Tim, a bit. Focus on the parts he liked watching and try to… make them just as nice.

He shucked his clothes off and tossed them in the laundry basket before pulling back the blankets; he’d thought briefly about leaving them on, aiming for rumpled instead of completely nude, but that felt equally as stupid when they both knew they were aiming for proper sex tonight. So, clothes, blankets, and Jon eased himself back into the cool sheets, letting out a breath as his head hit the pillow. Fine. This was fine. Nothing different than crawling into bed by himself for the past couple of weeks, albeit he was… usually wearing clothes… but his thoughts were wandering again. He breathed in, slow and pointed, feeling the rise of his lungs filling with air. And then he let it out as evenly as possible. Doing it again as he slid his hand down to take a hold of his cock. Right.

This was different. This wasn’t necessity, this was just… _want._ He wasn’t hard, not at all yet, but he did have the idea of sex with Tim as catalyst. Even still, this would take… imagery. Imagination. Jon breathed in deep again and closed his eyes. Fantasy. Or memory? Hm. He did have the last time Tim had gotten off for him on the brain…

He really had been too tired, that night. Exhausted, truly, that kind of bone-deep feeling he was becoming more and more familiar with the longer he spent at the archives. He’d let Tim talk him into coming home with him that night, mostly because he’d been too tired to argue, and Tim in charge of the train stops meant he could sleep on the way there. He had, against Tim’s shoulder, and had pretty much gone straight to bed after Tim had coaxed some dinner into him. For his part, Tim had just seemed _amused_ by the whole thing, not at all expectant.

And then he’d woken up later to Tim touching himself in bed next to him, groggy and a little confused, vaguely annoyed that he must have missed a cue earlier on in the evening.

But Tim had just apologized, after a mostly shameless little _whoops_ at being caught. Muttered something about being horny and that Jon could go back to sleep, so on, so forth, and Jon just… hadn’t. He’d watched, and Tim had watched him watching, and then it had just been mutually agreed he should keep going. And maybe Jon hadn’t really been an active participant at all, could barely keep his eyes open, but Tim… Jon still didn’t know where he got the energy past midnight to do himself so openly.

… it had been nice, though. Tim, mostly naked, pants shoved past his thighs, stroking his prick in time to gasping Jon’s name, his breathless, uttered _oh God_ s, _oh fuck_ s, and telling Jon exactly how it felt. Jon had been worn out and unwilling, but something about it– the silence of the late hour, his own lethargy, Tim’s whispers in the murky dark– had been a bit electrifying. Of course Jon had still fallen asleep in three seconds flat after Tim had come, but he _still_ did remember it fondly, he reaffirmed, and was getting hard in hand from the memory. _Well done._

He was going to do that _for_ Tim now. Touch himself under his careful gaze until maybe he spilled across his own stomach or hand– nevermind that he probably wouldn’t look _nearly_ as sexy doing it as Tim had… hm. Or perhaps Tim could help out. Provided _he_ wasn’t too tired from his trip, he’d probably be more than willing to lend a hand…

He let the fantasy run. It was… difficult, honestly, staying in his own head that way. He’d never been one for being able to lay back and formulate fantasies, much more suited to quick and efficient if he’d already woken up hard, but maybe there was something to taking it slow every now and again, and losing track of time was an okay thing right now.

Still, the sound of the front door opening nearly scared the life out of him. Nevermind that he’d _known_ Tim was on his way, that that was the whole point– he’d still yanked his hand away from his prick to pull at the blankets on reflex– Jesus.

“Five after six,” Tim’s voice announced, followed by the thud of luggage. “The traffic was _just_ as shitty as GPS predicted, so I made a _hell_ of a guess– Jon?”

… yes, he had missed him. Fine. _Welcome back,_ he wanted to say, but that wasn’t letting this play out organically. He let go of the blanket. He dragged his nails back up his thigh, and wrapped his hand back around his cock. Half hard now, nicely so, and he breathed out with another stroke of his palm.

“Jon. I _swear_ if you made a big deal about getting me all hot and bothered and then fell asleep again…”

The nice thing about Tim’s place was that it was fairly straightforward. An empty sitting room and kitchen would prompt a check to the toilet, and then Tim’s footfalls were already outside of the open bedroom door. And there was the rush of nerves again; Jon didn’t know if he was more _relaxed_ because Tim was here, now, and he was safe, or if he felt increasingly _more_ stupid, laying here exposed with his hand around his dick– but no time to panic now, because Tim was already there–

“J–” He didn’t even get the only syllable of his name out, and Jon tilted his head on the pillow, barely daring but also eager so in flicking his gaze to seek out Tim’s face. Surprised– no, _shocked,_ taking in the whole of the situation, and okay, _then_ Jon wanted to squirm, but forced himself not to– “Oh, Christ.”

His heart was pounding. And he could feel the throb all the way down between his legs, which was actually a nice little addition here. He shifted his hand down and squeezed, watching Tim gauge that action with hungry eyes, and then Jon greeted him, “I’ve only fallen asleep _once.”_ His voice sounded a lot more steady than he felt, thankfully.

Tim was still staring. Eyes wide and progressively looking a little pink, a little _hot_ under the collar as he watched Jon’s hand moving lazily. It was… working. This was _actually_ working? “… yeah,” Tim said, abruptly. “The nipples. When you were drunk and felt up my nipples– Jesus, Jon.” He stepped forward, yanking his jacket off. “Couldn’t even wait ‘til I got home?”

He was so… accommodating. _Eager,_ even, falling straight into the moment without needing more than a second to stand and stare. Jon could hardly even _fathom_ being like that, but then… it was just so very _Tim._ And then Jon smiled, and he wasn’t _relaxed,_ he couldn’t be, like this, but watching Tim trip over himself in crossing the room to the bed was the biggest relief he could have asked for right now.

“I could have,” he said, as Tim leaned a knee against the bed to dip in and kiss him. Jon gave himself another stroke and tilted his head back when Tim pulled away. “But I didn’t want to.”

“God, you’re– you’re something. Fuck. I can’t believe this was your plan! I was just sitting in the airport, bored to _death,_ and you’re just– _horny._ Thinking of touching yourself! You were thinking of touching yourself.” Tim paused, and pulled back an inch. _“Were_ you touching yourself, when you were talking to me?”

“No!” God, that was– _terrible._ He hadn’t even thought about it. But then, there _was_ a whole want for phone sex, wasn’t there? It didn’t sound particularly _appealing,_ to him, but… “Would you have liked it if I had?”

_“Hell_ yeah,” Tim said immediately. “God, just listening to you talk about being horny got me hot. And having a boner on a plane is _not_ fun.”

“Tim,” he groaned, throwing his free hand over his eyes. That wasn’t… the _idea_ of Tim being so… _obvious,_ that just gave him _anxiety–_ “Please tell me you did _not_ get off on the plane.” He couldn’t imagine. But… but still, if he’d gotten Tim so… _that,_ after just mentioning–

“No, I _didn’t,_ but I’m just saying.” Tim pulled back further. “The idea of you, here? In my bed. _Touching yourself,_ because you’re so horny at the thought of me coming home–”

“It wasn’t really–” He licked his lips, still nervous. “Wasn’t really the thought of you coming _back–”_

“No, ‘cause you’ve been horny the whole fucking time. Right?”

“Er–”

“Were you thinking of me?” Tim interrupted. “Wishing I was here, so I could fuck it out of you?” Jon gasped, pressing his wrist harder over his eyes. So _crude._ Tim was quiet for a second, and then retreated further. “Oh, er, sorry. Sorry, forgetting myself. Dirty talk’s a _habit,_ huh?”

“‘s okay,” Jon murmured. It was fine. He still had his hand wrapped around his prick, Tim had moved enough to stand up straight again, and it was almost a moment to breathe out. To gauge. He peeked out from under his wrist, venturing, “is… er, _this_ okay?” Tim _seemed_ to like it, for sure, but… “I feel ridiculous,” he admitted, in a rush. “You’re the one who usually indulges me, and I’m not– not as _open–”_

“This is _great,_ Jon,” Tim interrupted again. “Like? Coming home and finding you like this? It’s _really_ hot.”

“I’m barely even doing anything.”

“I mean, if I wanted to watch porn, I’d watch porn,” Tim said. He said it so _simply._ “But you, doing what you want? Doing it knowing I’d be home to see? _That’s_ so much better. Christ, you’re so hot, just like this.”

… right. When Tim said it, all flush like that, Jon almost believed it. No, he thought, moving his hand away from his face. He _did_ believe it. Tim just… did that. Made him feel less ridiculous. Took that away from him, in ways he hadn’t felt in… a very long time. “Well,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m very glad you enjoy it.”

“Do _you_ enjoy it?”

“I mean…” Carefully– very carefully– he took up motion on his cock again, and didn’t have to look to know Tim was immediately watching that. “It’s all pleasure receptors–”

“Jon,” Tim started warningly, but Jon just quirked a tiny smile.

“Yes,” he said, still looking at the ceiling. He moved his other hand to his chest, and then just sort of… smoothed his hands over his nipples. Foreplay. He might be mostly hard, but he was going to flag if he didn’t keep this up. Heh. Tim would have appreciated that one. 

But anyway, Tim wanted to see. And he wanted to show off, a bit. “I– I still feel silly. But I like… this. Getting you… worked up.”

“I am _very_ supportive of you getting me worked up.” Tim shifted around so he was sitting on the edge of the bed properly, and– yes, he was watching. Staring. God, that look on his face. It was… it made the ache in his body more pronounced, the throbbing between his legs more insistent. “Are you gonna get off for me?”

“I, uh.” Goddamn. “Yes, I’d– I’d like that.” He slid his free hand further down, off his thigh to twist into the blankets again. “But– er. If I do, I’m not– I’m not sure if I can go again. So soon.”

“Super valid.”

“And I promised you sex, so…”

“You _didn’t_ promise me sex,” Tim reminded. “It was a plan, but plans change. And I _definitely_ don’t mind dinner and a show.”

“Dinner and a show,” he repeated, twitching as he hit a sensitive spot. He did it again, the pleasure-pain of friction, and, ah. “Could you, uhm, the lube is– somewhere.” Bottle discarded in the blankets, and he was a bit weak-kneed for having a search. “I need…”

“More?” Tim asked, and started to rummage. “I would have brought back something nice, if I’d’ve known you were getting handy.”

“I like– I like _mine.”_ Christ, Tim was such a lubricant snob. Jon _couldn’t._ “But when someone gets home so late–”

“Five minutes!” Tim protested, holding up the bottle. “Not my fault you started so early.”

“I wanted it to be _good.”_ He held his hand out for the bottle, but Tim didn’t hand it over. Just flipped the lid on it and held the bottle upside down in invitation. “God, Tim.” He complained, but… intimacy, wasn’t it? Sharing the experience. Awkward, but not uncomfortable. And he’d been planning to fuck him, for Christ’s sake. He swallowed, and held his hand out for Tim to squirt some onto his fingers. “Did you– did you want to _help?”_ he asked. “Because you can.”

“Oh, I am _super_ happy watching. Don’t mind me. Carry on as if I wasn’t here.”

“Sure.” So eager. But it was a confidence boost, if nothing else. He slicked up his cock again and went back to it, a little faster. A little more eager himself. Tim did _that,_ too. “But– you are here.”

“I _am!”_ Tim braced his hands on the bed. “And I’m _so_ glad traffic was the usual. You’re already so close, and I would have missed out on _another_ one of your apparently _many_ orgasms this weekend if I’d been delayed.”

“It wasn’t _many.”_

“How many?”

Jon swallowed. “Th– three? Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Tim mouthed, and then, louder, “did you jerk off in my _bed_ every time?”

“U– Um.” Well. “Yes,” he admitted, because, barring the shower, where else would _he_ get off at? Bed was safe. Bed was secure. Even exposed like this, Tim’s bedroom was a sanctuary.

“Jesus. Is there cum all over my bed? Because, knowing you, you’ve been buffing the bishop and falling asleep pronto.”

“I’ve been _what?”_ Jon gasped, hips jerking. Fuck. Tim’s toned-down dirty talk was doing nothing for him, but– stimulation and pressure– “No! Just– it was just the once–”

“Oh! Just the once. Thought it smelled like sex in here.”

_“Tim.”_ Horrible! That was– it didn’t _really,_ did it? He hadn’t– “Fuck,” he snapped instead, half mortification and irritation as he was reduced to a single syllable again. Close, he was so close.

“That’s it, come for me, boss. Do it for me? Let me see all I’ve been missing out on.”

“Don’t call me–” But too late, thumbing over the head of his prick and then spilling all over his own hand. And maybe the blankets, but, Christ, he hoped not the blankets. Tim wouldn’t shut up about it for a _week_ if he got cum all over his blankets _now._

He wasn’t sure he’d let him live it down, anyway, as Jon went limp into the blankets and gasped through the rush of feeling that lingered. Because maybe Jon had closed his eyes, but he could hear the grin plain in Tim’s voice as he replied, “oh, so you _do_ like it when I call you ‘boss,’ huh?”

He tried to kick him, he really did. But he felt suddenly far away, and it wasn’t at all worth it. And, provided Tim wasn’t shouting it across an airport, then, well… Jon didn’t mind it as much as he pretended to.

The mattress creaked again, a shift in weight and Tim’s presence vanishing from the foot of the bed. Jon still didn’t open his eyes to see, focusing on breathing in and breathing out, until the moment Tim said “here,” and Jon finally looked to see him offering a couple of tissues from the nightstand. “You know I’m gonna want to kiss you again,” he continued, as Jon reached out with trembling fingers to take them and clean up a bit. “Because that was damn hot, but _also_ I’ve been gone two weeks. I’ve missed my kisses.”

“You’ve missed your kisses…” Jon repeated, propping himself up in order to bin the tissues. Tim had a point. It had been two weeks. That little peck was hardly a greeting. “You’ve a point,” he said aloud, and turned his head to angle it up towards Tim.

Tim was immediately there, in his space again as he leaned over the bed. Jon could still barely hold himself up, all jellied limbs and a pounding heart. It did _not_ help when his breath was swept away from the intensity of the kiss, or the way Tim managed to… to be so tender, when he rightfully should have been riled up. (Which he was. The sudden tenderness was for Jon’s benefit, he knew. Letting him come down gently.) It was… it was nice. Long, and Jon found himself lingering at Tim’s mouth even after his arms started to shake in earnest from the awkward position. He breathed out, and pulled back an inch. “Welcome home.”

Tender. How did he manage to be so completely filthy one second and then so soft in the next? Jon still couldn’t figure it out. He would never be able to match him, on that level. But… that was okay. It was more than okay. Tim smiled that content, tender smile. “Thanks, Jon.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write Jon ~~trying to~~ seducing Tim 🥺 being so awkward and unsure about it, not MINDING it, per se, but like? that mood where you theoretically know the appeal behind a thing but doing it makes you feel silly anyway? is that just an ace mood? it might just be an ace mood xD having a communicative partner is KEY in those moments and you know Tim's got that covered!! 
> 
> i care them so so much 🥺


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